so no one told you life was gonna be this way
by loved in shades of wrong
Summary: She goes to stand up when his hand shoots out and holds her wrist, tugging her closer. "Wait." He rubs circles on the back of her palm with his thumb. "I'm sorry. Don't go."


"Hey, how is he?" Caroline Forbes stands in front of the Lockwood mansion, looking grimly at Mayor Lockwood. It's been two days since the accident, and Caroline is starting to get worried. She'd searched everywhere for him at school today and even called him a couple of times but all she had received was his voicemail ("Tyler, it's me. Where are you?" "Tyler, call me back." "Tyler, seriously, if you don't call back I swear I will do that vampire thing again, and I know how you hate that! I- Elena!" "Hey Tyler, it's me again, my so-called-friend stole my phone. _Call me_!"). When she had called the Lockwood home during lunch, she was relieved when someone finally picked up. It was Mayor Lockwood, who had invited her over after school. She found that Tyler had locked himself in his room and hadn't spoken to anyone since that fateful day.

"Not so good. I'm glad you're here, honey. Maybe you can get him out of his room." Carol moves aside to let her son's girlfriend inside, nudging her gently towards the long-winding staircase. "Take this with you as well; he hasn't eaten today either."

Nodding, Caroline smiles gently at the over-worked older woman, noticing the heavy eyes she possesses. Most likely from worrying about her son's emotional state on top of her mayorly (so it's not a word, _sue her_) duties, and took the tray of soup and crackers. Slowly climbing the stairs, she feels a disturbing stir in her stomach. What will she say to him? _Can_ she say anything to make him feel better? Are there even any _words_ for this?

"Okay, Caroline, just breathe," she whispers. Closing her eyes, she heaves a steady breath and pushes open the door. It was dark; the thick velvet drapes prevented any light into the large and… god, _messy_ room. How could anyone _live_ like this? _Stop_, she chastises, _he's mourning. Priorities, Care._ "Tyler?" she calls softly, not wanting to startle the boy lying helplessly on the (gross) bed.

She carefully avoids random pieces of clothing with a grimace twitching its way onto her face on her quest to her boyfriend. She pushes a sock (where's the other pair?) off the bedside table to make room for the tray.

Turning her attention to him, she watches solemnly as he lies there, face first, growling into his pillow. She wonders if it's safe to stroke his head (she likes to have that done for her when she's feeling sad).

Her hand's just hovering over the back of his head when he mutters indignantly, "Go 'way."

"Baby, I'm so sorry." She takes her chances and places her hand on his neck, rubbing comfortingly. "Are you hungry?" She slides it down to his back, feeling the heat radiate into her skin even through the stained (Is that ketchup? How…?) t-shirt he's wearing. "Do you want some soup? I can—"

In his inhumane speed, Tyler rolls onto his back and scowls at Caroline, who withdraws her hand sharply, like he stung her and flinches back in shock. "I said leave!"

She stares at him for a second before conceding; nodding dejectedly with eyes wide, and as discreetly as she could, sniffled.

She goes to stand up when his hand shoots out and holds her wrist, tugging her closer. "Wait." He rubs circles on the back of her palm with his thumb. "I'm sorry. Don't go."

Dropping her head to look at their hands, the corners of her lips twitch slightly. _Every time._

He pulls her down to lie beside him and she curls against him comfortably. "Are you okay?" she asks softly. She realises that it's a stupid thing to ask, but it's the only thing she can think to ask in situations like these. _Maybe Stefan can teach her a more meaningful etiquette_. She'll ask later.

"Yeah," he sighs. He slides his arm under her neck and rests his hand on her back to push her closer against him. "The funeral's this Saturday."

"Oh. Okay." Moving her head to relax against his shoulder, she listens to his deep breaths. Her hands feel cold, so she shoves one under the shoulder her head's placed and the other creeps up the hem of his shirt to feel his abdomen.

"You're coming, right?" he mutters into the top of her head, kissing the crown before nuzzling it with his nose.

"Only for you." She grins.

"Good."

"Are you going to… say something? At the funeral?"

"Yes. How does this sound, I've been working on it a bit this morning." He clears his throat. "I remember the day I first saw her; she was beautiful. I thought to myself, 'I could trust her with anything.' And I was right; she was always there for me. Especially when I needed her. —"

Caroline snorts down a laugh, accidentally choking on her saliva, interrupting his passionate speech. "Wait, Ty," she wheezes.

He gently pats her back to soothe her coughing fit and frowns. "It's not funny!" he says, affronted that his girlfriend of all people isn't taking this seriously.

"I know, babe," she manages, her convulsions dying down. "I'm sorry. It's just - Tyler, it's a car!" She tried. _She really did_. Carol told her over the phone to be empathetic and play along. And Caroline's naturally compassionate. But this is just _absurd_.

"She's not just a car; she's my baby!" At her look, he quickly adds, "After you, of course."

"Oh, of course," she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes. She squeezes his side to assure him that she isn't offended. "Why is this so important to you? You didn't even have it for that long. Besides, you can easily get another one."

"Babe, it's all about the memories. We had our first 'I love you's in that car, and that night in the back seat we—"

"Oh-kay! I get it!" She cuts in swiftly as Tyler laughs and kisses her cheek affectionately.

They settle down for a moment, just listening to each other breathing and basking in each other's light touches. She draws hearts and smiley faces on the bumps of his muscles. He skim light circles on her arm that inspires goosebumps everywhere, pressures a shiver from Caroline that rakes her from head to toe.

"Damon Salvatore sucks," he grumbles darkly, intertwining their hands and gripping her fingers tightly.

"Don't let him hear you say that." She bites her lip to keep from smiling and getting herself into trouble again.

"Care, he totally destroyed my car on purpose!"

"You bit him," Caroline defends weakly.

"_Months_ ago." He pouts.

"You know how he is," she sighs and soothingly strokes his stomach. "Revenge knows no time limits for him."

"We'll find a way to get him back. Any ideas?"

"I don't think I want to be involved in this. It would be _decades_ of constant back and forth. I promise I'll pick up the pieces, though. If you retaliate, your X-box could go missing, and I'll arrange the funeral for that one."

"Don't tease." He pokes her in the side and she squirms. "You know what I love about you?"

"What?" she asks cutely.

"You're always here for me too. No matter how ridiculous - admittedly - the situation may be."

"I will _always_ be here for you," she says emphatically. She looks up at him adoringly.

He rolls them over until she's safely tucked under him. He sips at her lips a couple of times before she impatiently cranes her neck to kiss him properly. Chuckling into her mouth, he fingers the strap of her top.

"Tyler, your mother!"

"But I'm sad! Grief sex," he tries justify.

"I am _not_ having sex with her in the same house," she whispers urgently.

Sulking for a second, he acquiesces and leans down to grin against her lips, mumbling, "I love you."

"I love you too, silly. Now. You need a shower. And clean clothes."


End file.
